” He would follow with a long discourse on biology, uninvited. ‘I must. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. “And yet I wonder whether the world ever held such another enigma in her sex. Time after time he reminded her of how powerless she would be without him, how unkind the world was towards single women. Adieu! my charmer. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter.
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